Category Archives: PTSD

Work the Crazy

The alarm is beeping wildly and I couldn’t help but snuggle back into the warmth of the bed with the two dogs and nuzzle into my feather pillow. One doo is definitely not a morning dog and stretches her bod across my side of the king bed, the other playing on the corner with her toy. My goal this morning was to get up and complete my sculpting workout and activate my muscles for tonight, but we did have an extensive workout last night outdoors, varying between the girls.

The eighty pounder (maybe more now) is ready to run steady and can easily drag me and the other doo up the hill and the other beautiful hundred thirty pounder needs small doses of exercise in smaller increments; both crosses of Bullmastiff’s, but each their own amazing and loving personalities. Sometimes great little stinkers!

Last night as we rounded the corner towards the large grassy hill, I unleashed the short lead and there as we ran down I watched the big Doo, ears flapping, jowls hanging and endless smiles on her face enjoying those moments of running. Those are the moments I want to remember always.

I have spoken many times on how my big doo had given me back my life; helped me be able to leave the house, went to work daily and was my constant resource to help me deal with the ptsd. She is, as always doing it again. This time things have changed slightly, she has been waking me up when she knows I am starting to deal with the allergic reaction again.

Since the second incident, they have me taking daily doses of antihistamines to try and calm my system down, the bites on my legs, still scarred and bruised looking remnants of what started this whole affair with a chain reaction of additional events and the storm that erupted to cause my emergency.

During the night if something starts to change in my body there is my big doo waking me up, licking my hand, or hitting my arm so that I can take what is needed. She is so in tune and I can’t believe how lucky we were to find each other. Little Doo is usually snoring through the whole affair, but likes to tend to my tears, as she doesn’t like to see me cry. Both have been excellent at helping wake me up and chasing my nightmares away. They are my own magic wands.

This week my goal was to run a 5km run on the Friday. After this past weeks experience, the first thing I had was so much fear. Can I go? I need to take so much stuff now to run? Will my legs bother me (between the scars, the ms and my mind) it felt like I was trapped again in my own body. And somewhere in the back of my mind it limited me in how I thought, what I could do and created so much self doubt.

I am determined to do this! The best therapy I found was to work the crazy out. Run like the wind inside or outside, whatever made me comfortable and to let myself break. My body would start to heal more when I hit the 20 to 35 minute mark and I would be blubbering on the treadmill, gasping for air and wiping my nose. I was refreshed, I had clarity, and I had this building of internal strength along with building a great tushy.

I want to wake up and be excited about life! I want to be excited of running this race. I want to be excited about trying new things and not to be in constant fear. I want to be excited to let myself be myself. There truly is no one like you and I want to harness those feelings for the bad days to help give me strength and perseverance.

For me this all became my self care.

My self care, key word! Did I run like the wind tonight? Not a chance, more like small bursts of gusts, but I finished. I even stopped to absorb a beautiful field with perfect lighting. I finished feeling proud of myself, proud that I was able to keep fear at bay, proud of how far I have come over these years and of course I had some rocking tunes to bring me home, with Lenny Kravitz bringing me to the finish line asking if I’m gonna go my way.

As always, believing in yourself is the first step of self care, have faith and take small steps.

Love always the running, winded, oh dear god another hill, proud and crazy Woman in Process

P.S. this week I signed up for a 10km virtual run, it’s all about me and that medal, just to say I did it! Plus the medal is sooooo cool!

Time Stands Still

It felt like a movie scene. One played out with the characters that you like and dislike. Those that you think play the role of non existent in any aspect of life and those that always get into trouble.

I was waiting for someone to yell cut; scene! It didn’t happen, this truly was my life at this moment.

I seem to have been non existent for a while; caught in the work “bumbleness”of constant issues, drama and challenges. This was not for me.

I have worked too hard to see it all fade away, to see the rebuild and growth of what I had create to vanish. I have spent years carving out “me time”, learning how to get my toolbox out for each person’s issues and mine and to teach lessons.

Was this really how I was going to go? One person’s negligence and a storm effect like a tornado sweeping in and my life torn down like Dorothy’s barn.

The moment time stood still, it truly happens. The moment you decide if you are willing to keep fighting, the moment you see what truly is clear, what truly means most to you, and anger; anger for recklessness, anger for stupidity, anger for uncaring.

This brings me to here, today. Reliving each moment of that day, and tapping my way to being able to ask the person running the roller coast if I may get off now, I have seen enough.

This is the beginning of a new situation that may have put me back on the previous track. May have found my direction again, though my preference would have been a nice note.

Life never seems to happen like that. It can be loving and cold, dark and mesmerizing, bold and dramatic or loving and accepting; the yin and yang of life.

I had no idea that the previous weeks allergic reaction was not out of my system. I carried tablets, but no epi pen or other medications.

I was weakened, and with the storm of recklessness, I was in anaphylaxis. As I watched the people whom I thought would look after me in a distress situation, they all looked to me for their instructions. They couldn’t respond.

I was trapped in that moment thinking this is not how I am going! This was not my vision!

I was gasping for air and inside I’m telling them what to do. How could they not know? Did I not send them to first aid? Did they sleep through the class?

9-1-1 hit the buttons!

I could hear Mr. Jones in my head telling me not to panic, as work mode came on. I prepared to dial the emergency myself while searching for tablets, while the person acting like a Chihuahua was barking at me not knowing what to do. I gasped the beginning of the word now. Get your tablets now. Why let me stand here coughing and losing my air to live?

As I get them in I’m still trapped, call now? Are the tablets working? I still can’t get info to them but I know with my purse in hand and my medical info on my emergency section of my phone they could help me.

That’s when the cavalry walked in and their arms of comfort come around my body. For some reason my sister (she never comes to work) showed up and with her checking me and the tablets in, finally a tiny gasp of air comes in. Time had slowed down.

I’m raw. My throat and chest ache, my soul is aching and I feel completely deflated from this experience. Like anything the after effect is teachable. Each one of them slowly realizing I was suffocating in front of them and they were Jigsaw asking if I wanted to play a game. They were choosing if I lived or died at that moment, but why was it their choice?

I choose to live, however that means.

With the challenges of trust with me, the fight and flight taking place and the nightmares back from the PTSD, I am fully equipped with my required medical items. The fear changed me. Did it change me for better or worse?

I have never been more happy to get home that day, stroke the fur babies now as we have two, and have Mr. Jones hold my hand.

My world turned upside down for a while and now I’m working on just trying to find a happy medium of acceptance of myself at this time.

The others I know it was not intentional, but their lack of trying to help me was. That will take time, and how ever long that is, it is.

In the meantime I can still educate others on it, educate myself and be prepared that no one ever has to deal with this at work again.

The curtain call came and I’m still standing.

Love always from the raspy, bumbling, shoe loving Woman in Process

My Daughter

This year I will celebrate my 46 birthday. For some it won’t seem like a milestone but for me it demonstrates resilience, determination and the ultimate focus and freedom.

As I write this I am sitting in a cushy robe and waiting for my appointment at the spa. Some people need quiet and I feel the need to start writing to ease the pain in my soul.

The sound of the fire beside me, mesmerizes my thoughts and changes my breathe to a very slow, inhale and exhale. Exhaling all the wounds and scars, exhaling my self doubt, exhaling my fear.

Many many years ago I was hurt, like everyone else. Relationships change, the people you thought you knew are not what they seem to be and the clarity and focus you learn becomes all you have to move forward. I buried that hurt, and now years later I have it waking me up, hitting me in the face as though it just took place.

This time of year, 23 years ago I found out I was pregnant. Not something that was going to happen to me, I thought; not because of choice but because of body mechanics.

At the age of 16 I had my doctors appointment and was told the likely hood of that to ever happening was nil. Imagine my surprise when I found out I was.

The catch was the journey was going to be one of aloneness in my head, my world was not going to be what I thought, but it became better, I just didn’t know it then.

23 years later as I find out that my daughters biological father passed a little while ago, I am breaking open the cookie jar and working though all my emotions and challenges; removing another bandage, and working on sealing that gapping wound.

The wound of abandonment; being alone on the journey of growing life, building faith that I could provide for her, building a future for the two of us and being blessed with more family than I thought would happen.

It was the start of my outline, like the preparation for how my novel would end, how I wanted my journey to end.

I was picking my ending first; choosing what I wanted for those ten little toes and ten little fingers. Holding her hand and knowing I would do anything for this little one. I was going to be brave, I was going to keep moving forward and I was going to give her the best that I could.

It challenges me that she never met him, (his choice), that the choices he made still have consequences for others and that I can’t just get angry at him because he won’t hear the words I have to say and it would just make me feel worse.

So let me try it this way. Regardless of how angry I was, how hurt I was, how disappointed I was in you; I’m going to forgive you.

I’m forgiving you because you didn’t get to see those moments of true love from her; the unconditional love she taught. Her first steps, her first piano lesson, her first soccer game, her first day of school, her graduation. You never saw how kind and incredible she is, how smart and intellectual, how trustworthy and friendly.

Your choice to not make her a priority built a bridge for someone else to be there. Someone that can proudly wear the badge as father, someone who may not share the same blood, but shares the same tears when she is hurt.

I forgive you for failing her, because there were others who helped pick her up. I forgive you for choosing a different life and missing out as you will never know all that it means.

I forgive you for abandoning us when we needed help because it made me stronger and more determined than I ever thought possible.

I forgive you for making me guarded and for the walls my husband had to break down because it made our marriage strong.

I forgive you for not trying. I forgive you for keeping family from her, from hiding her, from running away from responsibilities.

Today I forgive you but I also forgive myself. I forgive myself for the guilt I felt every day you never made contact. I forgive myself for judging every decision I made. I forgive myself and release myself from the prison in my mind.

I thank my husband for being her dad, for merging families, for showing us that our blended life could be great and challenging.

I thank him for the patience he had when I struggled with my hurt. I thank him for letting me grieve in my way now and for understanding my pain that became fresh and raw again upon finding out about your passing.

I thank those that helped me raise this incredible human, and those I know will watch over her when I am not there.

I thank God for blessing me for the journey, for giving me an incredible gift. I thank my daughter for molding me into what I was suppose to be; her Mum.

Love and forgiveness from The Woman in Process

Where Did I Go?

Hi! It has been forever hasn’t it? It’s like in some ways I fell off the planet. I did in one aspect, life got away from me and as I was completing checks and balances I realized how much I missed this outlet.  I missed just being able to be me, able to open up in ways I can’t in the outside world. Be able to share some of my inner most depths and feel safe from judgement.

If you get to know me, you will find I share what I know people can handle, not the reality. I share from an optimistic side and keep the black to myself, but like everything it does ooze out at times and it seems to be oozing for a while. I just had my visual on this look and I can’t help but laugh and wish I could describe to you.

My stress has increased, trying to please everyone has been more challenging and the feeling again in some ways part of me is lonely and in other ways I have these great cheer leaders on the end of the football field and I just have to reach them before I am splattered as I run. I am Miss PAC-Man  at this time, dodging, turning and trying to not get caught, trying to get to the end zone.

Too late, it caught me, over and over again.  As the rain is coming down in heavy determined drops, I am using it as my cleansing; wash it away, spray the oozing gunk off and keep going.

Not even a month ago my fur baby savior had to go in for surgery. She had a cruciate ligament tear, in our language she blew her acl, just like a football player, she must have been dodging the stress and gunk with me on the field. I was devastated, in denial, into panic mode, and just felt overly helpless as she was hurt and I couldn’t fix her. My fears inside were blowing up and around me and I was dealing with the gunk of people not understanding why it bothered me so.

I researched, I cringed looking at the pictures of how the surgery looked, I read every aspect of healing and then I felt somewhat okay and it was time for our pre-op appointment. As we were sitting there, her and I, she kept looking up and putting her paw on me. She kept trying to reassure me of my fear and me to her as I pet her, loved her and listened. The Doctor was talking and watching and then he asks. I can see you two have a very different bond, and it is very special, why is it?

My emotions try to flood me like this down pour and I calmly tell him she helps me with the PTSD. He says he knew it must have been something big as he could see the relationship we had. He says I cannot promise people anything, but to do my best, but for you he says I am going to promise you I will fix her, I will keep her safe and I will have her back to you and she will be running beside you in no time. I loved that he did that.   He spent an hour and a half with me answering questions, going through the whole process and then we were booked.

I cried walking out of the office, because now it truly was out of my control. My nerves were heightened, people were saying she is young she will be fine, I just kept praying. We took her in for her surgery and I cried on the way out, after so she wouldn’t see me. I cried at work, I lost myself in tasks and watched the clock. Mr Jones turned into the expectant mother and was waiting for the call that everything went well. It came and I cried in relief!

The first hurdle was done and now we were onto healing. I set up camp on the floor by her kennel, as she needs 16 weeks of healing time and the procedure cuts their bone so in reality she has a broken leg. I read and talk to her, we watch Friends and my world changed completely. I began to appreciate again small details that seemed to have gotten lost on the shuffle. Sitting there and not having a plan, seemed pretty great and I felt more free.

Every moment was in a slower mode, there isn’t any rush. I am enjoying this part. We had some bumps and bruises, the antibiotics made her sick, she decided she wasn’t  taking them. They monitored her and she was good, she wouldn’t take the pain meds after the first couple days, she didn’t need them. She had  some fluid on her leg which is normal , but it seems to be going down now that the staples are out and she is up to ten minute walks. The laser twice a week seems to really help the healing process.

I cannot believe how amazing she is doing, but boredom is kicking in at times. The house is covered in carpets so she doesn’t slip, she cannot go to the bedroom or living room without assistance as there is stairs, welive on the floor looking out to the garden. My back aches, I have slept one full night in two weeks and I really am needing more physical activity, I would do this all again for her.

We are coming up on three weeks this Thursday and we need to get to her eight week X-rays to make sure the bone has healed. The bunnies on the lawn taunt her but, overall she is staying pretty calm and enjoying our togetherness. She has now commandeered my floor mattress and sleeps there with me on three quarters of the bed. We listen to the owl in the distance asking us endlessly who and enjoying the sounds of the birds when we wake up.

The days are starting to get shorter and the feel of fall on the wind is there.  I have a new job that no one knows about yet as I can’t tell anyone for a bit longer and we just received an awesome tandem bike in to help those with mobility issues. So even though days are gucky, I think my overall world is way brighter than before. I have more tools in my basket to use to get me through and I feel like those that are beside me hold my hand and help me be braver than I am.

The dog is snoring up a storm on the mattress and my tummy is a grumbling, but thinking it’s a nice time for another nap.

Love always from the oozing, gucky, sleep deprived loving dog mama, Woman in Process

 

 

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

I like to think that I was good this year, so may have to ask my Mum and Dad what they think as well. I spent many days at day care playing with my friends wrestling, running and having fun. I was able to get to the dog park and meet new friends and enjoy their company. Mama shared her Starbucks cookie with me many times, I also got my own some days with my puppachino. I did get sick a few times this year and Mama was so worried. She would rub my head and ears and stay up in the wee hours to make sure I was ok. She may have even cried into my fur more than once as she says I rescued her. Not sure what she means but I like the snuggles. I adventured in my new home on wheels sniffing out how big the world is and seeing so many new things, some things scared me because I didn’t know what they were but Mama and Dad would help me and I found out they were nothing to worry about. I saw birds and waterfalls, slept under the stars in my new home, played in my pool outside, ran like a crazy dog, received many new toys for playing this year, and lots of treats.
I’m thinking this is the life so I think I would just like to ask for more of the same, and that my furry friends receive their treats and toys. That those without a home find one, and find a loving family like mine. Santa, I may have accidentally ate the cookies left out for you.

Love Miss Sasha Rose

I Am Free

Three weeks ago….

I sat at the computer tweaking and cleaning up the desktop and there in all the icons was my speech from last year. I sent it to myself and thought I should look at it again. What did I write? Was it any good? Did it make any sense or just jibberish?4

I still read the things I write at times and think, who wrote this? Was this really from inside my mind, my soul’s creations?I am in awe. I am in awe of seeing such expression, raw truth and am searching again for something, I just am unsure of what.

Like everyone, one day you think wow, where did the time go, how did we get to fall? I have been so occupied, with work, life in general and then I ask how helpful has this has been to my mental and physical state?  It did preoccupy me at times when I thought I would melt into a puddle of goo.

I decided to be brave tonight and read some of the older posts, the beginning, the changes and see where I thought I was at and check in on where I want to be.

It didn’t take long for the tears to roll down my face, but also a smile at the same time, the smile a feeling of triumph and victory.

Recently I had a few items that triggered the PTSD at full force. I started to panic and then was able to work on changing the mindset, what I was doing at the time, where I stood, sat, anything that could be changed from previous, I kept myself aware, that it was not the same situation. It did cause my brain to panic to create the fog and feel like I was lost again, but it was only temporarily. I continued the tasks the therapist gave me,  spoke out loud, acknowledged the feelings and gave myself some time and space. The next day I was still a tad off, but could continue moving forward. This was a huge accomplishment for me!

As I haven’t been to therapy for quite some time, you become fearful that everything you worked on could be lost, lost in one moment, the fear of losing yourself again, the fear of not coming back from the depths of the ocean.

This summer we spent time focused on us, Mr. & Mrs. Jones; our alone time together, reading, camping, enjoying the small things in life. The scenery and numerous walks with the pup sitting in front of the water to just breath. The paralysis I felt would disappear and I kept coming back, like clockwork . In my head I was thinking I wasn’t doing anything but living, yet the downtime of solitude gave me more than I could imagine. It gave me even more life and laughter.

People laughing around the campsites, the smell of fires in the pit, children running and playing, it was as if all things were in the distance, not reachable, everything out of touch, just as some movie far away.  I had my own seclusion away from physical daily life and into my own head, it was the right medicine and I think was the saviour for me this year.

In a year, where the focus on me changed and amped up into a much more busy and stressful year, I looked forward to that aloneness, but with my better half. He was truly able to become more in touch with me, the original version, the version he always knew.

12 days later…:

This morning, many many morning from my original writing, as I sit with my caramel coffee, listening to the sounds of the Christmas Choir, I pull out a cherished gift, a coloring book with sharpened pencils in an array of colors, to keep my mind calm to a new day, a new beginning, to new growth.

My body is unfortunately very tired and I am focusing on healing it with more self care aka (wine in tubs) and the warmth of home life that feels as if it hugs my heart; my sanctuary, the tree lights twinkling and the tears roll down my cheeks as I embrace this picture, another sign from those that walk with me, a reminder how far you can walk, run or fly. Anything is possible!

So today dear friends, I leave it there, I leave it as I want to focus on my creation of color, embrace the sounds of a quiet morning, the tones of the choir and the heat running in the background while the storm is a brewing outside.

Love always the storm watching, marveling in life, Woman in Process.

 

 

 

Bliss

I wonder at times where I should begin? At this moment in time with my cup of tea, steeping with fresh Earl Grey in the kitchen, or the past month of trials and tribulations and how I finally came to the word “Bliss”.

This month has been far from that word and I feel as if I have been climbing a large mountain to get to the top, but I know, I am so close to getting there, so close to flashing my light for others, for me, to feel a success.

Success being defined by becoming emotionally and physically in tune within my own mind, body and soul. It feels as though anger has clasped around my wrists holding me back with its vines from breaking free, from moving forward from finding peace.

Exhaustion has crept into my body, pushing the anxieties to an all time high and the mental state bringing such bad thoughts and nightmares into my world that I though I had a leash on. Yet again, they protrude out of the closet and walk into the darkness of my mind and pick; pick on each aspect, each ability, and begin to define me back into something I was so determined I would not be again.

I like to think that all the hard work was not wasted, though this month made me feel as though I flushed it all out.  I chalk this up to not reaching inside, not spending the time I needed on those areas, but being pushed and prodded by obligations of life. So right now inside my mind I am screaming “STOP!” “ENOUGH!”

I am taking back my health, and will begin to focus once again on what is best for me. What limitations I have, what obstacles I see, and how to learn how to hurdle jump them all, to continue the destination I see for my future, my future of hope.

Yesterday as my body phyiscally came to his maximum of what it could endure. It chopped me down to my knees as I fell. It made me look at life from a different height, from a different perspective and to see what trauma I have been putting it through.

Normally I would have wanted to do this in the comfort of my own home, but obligations forced me to deal and learn to accept this challenge in public. As I had to return to work, and the body could not stabilize and hold me upright without falling, I had no choice but to sit down in a bright red wheelchair. Left to myself with sunglasses on, I had about five minutes to accommodate, adjust before the first guest came up with their needs.

Eyes red, soul feeling deflated like a balloon who had sat in the sun too long and shrivelled, I had to meet the obligations face to face. Maneuvering this unit which I had no practice in, running into walls, scraping my hands down the textured wallpaper to try and help me move myself, hitting boxes and my knees, I began to get a small grip on this new avenue of road.

I realized how unfriendly the world felt at this level. I could not reach for things, I could not just walk over to the desk to pick up the paperwork I needed and I could not get around to the side of my desk in my office. I also needed to give myself more time to get there.

It was challenging, but then it began, a feeling like freedom that I had not experienced. Normally on my cane, I struggle with the spasms the pain, and it seems so hard to get up, out of the chair and the movements forward cause my learned pregnancy breathing to come in as my abs work hard to keep me moving, holding the body so carefully; one wrong move can make me come crashing down to all fours.

As one person requests a need for an item and insists it’s too far to walk, they back peddle as they realize the comment they just made. Inside I was not angry, I had some peace. I could continue living, do what I need to do or like to, but not use all my energy up just to get upright. It gave my body a healing break. By day two I was becoming an expert with my four wheeled unit, and I felt more hope and enlightenment take hold. The catch was the sorrow I also still felt was because I did not let myself take the time to grief and accept an area that I have spent seventeen years avoiding. Fear!

Scared that again this will define me, this will make me feel as though I am weak, yet it did the opposite and gave me power.  It gave me optimism of a future that won’t be so bleak. I have been blessed over the years and when things were so bad, something would take over and up I would come again. I feel as though I am a continuous tidal wave dependent on the pull of the moon, the stars and the amazing cosmic that I love to spend so much time staring at.

I keep stumbling on the aspect of my knees. The thoughts of why this is taking place, why now, what has changed and then I remember a line. I didn’t study much religion, I did attend a bible camp once, but I loved scriptures, hymns and catch myself singing a few songs when I feel I needed a hand.

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I felt the empowerment of that small line make sense, make me realize, just maybe each of these times I am knocked down is just another lesson or empowerment to get me back up, to make me succeed in life, to continue to hope, but also it actually gives me more power each time it does knock me to my knees. I just didn’t realize how much.

With that in mind, a new perspective, and my fresh Earl Grey tea chilling beside me, I feel as though my body has cleansed itself of some of it’s restrictions. Maybe tomorrow my day will begin again with a smile and end with the bliss I feel now today.

As always, love the kneeling, Woman in Process

 

Realism- Things We Learn

Realism sometimes is such a downer! You know what I am saying, when you look in the mirror and see that you are older, when you begin to walk sideways down the stairs in the morning, and you forget what you were doing when you leave a room.  You just stand there looking around.

Realism knocked me in the ass this weekend. I tried to keep it at arms length but no such go, stupid thing! As I sit here on my deck, with my third leg beside me and a realization that this is how it is at times. I have finally come to grips that I will finally pick out my wheelchair for bad days. Those are the days I cannot really walk but want to do things. Instead of putting all my energy into walking, I can then just enjoy. I can still go for walks with Mr. Jones, though both of us had a visual of the pup running down the hill crazily and me yelling, rolling down with her, but the humour lightened the mood.

This is what real life is, no glitz, no glamour just raw moments, built up into great ones that do make us smile and laugh.

So instead of me diving into all this junk, that’s it today. I have decided I am going to live life though my pups interpretations.

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They missed a very important one, if I don’t like it, pee on it. Not sure what my neighbors would think but oh well.

The dream job, yes please! I am thinking we could go into a puppery baconery.

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The queen and I were discussing some homemade treats, not sure yet if she is contributing to the baking or just the eating. I believe she is contemplating that question.

Happy Sunday, and if realism is kicking you down today, just pee on it and keep moving forward.

As always, love from the third peg legged Woman in Process

P.S when I do hit the store for my wheels, I’m thinking the first question is, how to do wheelies?

Hormonal Shovel

You can picture the scene, one from a dozen horror films playing the creepy music as the killer walks down the street sliding a shovel. The music intensifies as they finally come to a moment where the shovel knocks something out of their path. Welcome to my world for the past two weeks.

It is not by choice that I have become this person, but find the hormonal roller coaster is intensifying as I am aging and walking with a shovel seems to be the normal thing now.

Some of you are thinking, I so get this and others are thinking, you crazy girl. The catch it’s not just me, even Mr. Jones is seeing a difference in himself as he ages. We laugh how we are shrivelling up and we say is this normal?

It is a normal occurrence for each person, we just wish there was a guide manual on expectations, much like the preganancy manual. Instead we are inundated with flyers on planning your own funeral, life insurance and do you have enough money to retire? I miss the days of just a great catalogue showing up, but I am interested in the two for ones at the restaurant or the early bird specials of course.

All you hear from others is its been good, I found myself, (some days I am still hunting for her) I became more confident with myself and insert the sounds of Charlie Browns teacher here on the optimism. I am optimistic, on a different level.

Someone forgot to mention that the changes can last for ever!!!! You can be on the hot flash roller coaster for years. Blankets on, blankets off, blankets on, blankets off, growl! Fans are going all the time even in winter, a warm spring day and you are telling people to turn up the air conditioner, its so hot. One moment you are kind and gentle like Snow White singing and the next you are Godzilla trying to crush everything in your path.

Do you ever feel like you are getting one part of your life under control and then it feels like the marching band is dragging in the next adventure at the end of the parade?  Here comes the great theme music and then ta da, hormones!!! Reminds me of being a teenager. Friends are dealing with acne, some have commented no one tells you hair starts growing crazy here, here and here.  Your epilady has become your best friend or you wax on and off, to ensure you keep your confidence level up, and are not being recruited for the circus.

The commercials come on and a sad mushy one gets you (me they always did) or you get caught off guard and the tears start to come rolling out of your eyes. Your like what is this?  You continue to work towards better health and before you leave the mirror you always lift your chin and double check there is no hair on your chinny chin chin.

Yup, aging is great, the songs I sing to match the feelings I have, let’s start with do your —— hang low, do the wobble to and fro. Insert whatever you like. It seems to be all parts of he body, no part of the body is safe.

So even though I am struggling with the hormones I do appreciate being able to say things very outspoken and not have as much of the second guessing myself, I mentioned before I am somewhat socially awkward when I talk to people, but this me.

Now as I prep myself for today, I have left the shovel in the garage and am hoping for not another re-enactment on a movie, if I do have one, I could become the next horror writer. I am so cracking up at that and the movie titles are just flooding my head. I was going to write to you about forgetfulness, but I forgot what I was going to write.

When I found these pics, I was thinking they get me!!!

Love always the hot flashing Godzilla, the Woman in Process

 

Dear Grace,

 

Dear Grace,

I had no idea our paths would cross in such a different way today. It is my usual Friday of another week completed and I look back thinking do I remember any of it? It was in a blink of an eye. As I flip my light on, there in my office sits a chest in my one lonely black chair, one that must be lost or misplaced I thought.  On the top of the chest was a pink note with not much information for me to start trying to locate whom this may belong to.

I feel the need to apologize to you first Grace, as I needed to try and find a hint of where this chest belonged. I had no idea of the impact you would have on me today, the emotion you brought forth, the pain in my heart after.

As I begin to search for a name, a clue to search our database I knew all to well why this box was here, you must have recently decided to leave this world and head on to a new one to be with your loved one. I pulled pieces out and found your name, some photos, a letter to a member in your family from 1972 telling him he passed his exam and could be a Forester Fireman. The box itself smelled of fire, and inside were prized possessions of fire badges, and other mementos that must have meaned so much to you or you wouldn’t have saved them.

You had the most valuable prize possession in there Grace; a letter to your husband about how much you loved him, cared for him, how grateful you were for him in your life. I only wished I knew who the two of you were in the photos, or if they were of you. You could feel the love you shared, you could see you had built a lifetime together.

I did find who left the chest behind Grace, and I am so sorry they instructed me to throw these possessions out, they were not needed for them. My heart broke at that moment, as I felt like I was throwing away someone’s past, someone’s meaning. To others it might of been paper, to me this was history and for some reason I was given the honour of getting to meet you in a very different manner.

I can only assume what you may have looked like, what your life was about; your delicate handwriting of loops and form, each designing the cursive on perfect rows of unlined paper; not an error, just the feeling that you took your time to write this letter to your husband with care and compassion in the wee hours.

I would loved to have seen more Grace, but your letter was all it took for me to see  the most important part of your life. I did learn after some research tonight that your husband is laid to rest not too far from here, I hope you will be at peace now that you are together.

I shared the story and letter with Mr. Jones and he understood as well, why I could not throw it out. So dear Grace, we will bring that letter to you on a day trip out and lay it back to where it belongs with the two of you.

Thank you for sharing a great love story with us in a couple of pages, you really reminded us how special our love is and how frail life can be, so we need to ensure we do not miss out on an opportunity to tell each other.  Grace your name will be part of my memories.

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Love from the honoured Woman in Process

R.I.P Grace 1931-2017